Seeing the Light Through the Trees
by Ocelot Summer
Summary: Post-"A Deadly Game". Summer is ending, but Beckett isn't ready to see Castle yet.  C/B


**Seeing the Light Through the Trees**

_Disclaimer: Not mine, in any way, shape, or form. I'd probably break 'em. This story is written out of love, not for profit._

_A/N: I knew I had to write something after "A Deadly Game", I just didn't know what. Hopefully this turned out okay! Enjoy!_

* * *

**i.**

Three months. Three entire Castle-free months. No growling 'stay in the _car_, Castle!', no salacious smirks at the crime scene, no John Wayne-esque rescues or even the need to roll her eyes on a daily basis.

She has to admit… It's boring.

Beckett leans back in her chair, closing her eyes as the familiar sounds of the precinct surrounded her. Another case solved, another perp behind bars, and another looming stack of paperwork to fill out. With the number of cases Beckett had rampaged through this summer, she was beginning to wonder about carpal tunnel in her future.

The Whitman murder had been wrapped up – thankfully, since the press had been hound their steps since the call first came in. She'd hoped that when the case made the headlines with all the sorts of sensational details he loved – death threats to the mayor's trusty aide, his supermodel wife murdered, a body dissolved in a vat of acid – it would make Castle reappear in the precinct. Returned from the ether as easily as he'd gone, with a smile and a familiar joke and _without_ Gina clinging to his arm.

But the case had come and gone as the familiar old trio of herself, Ryan, and Esposito had solved it. Just like they had for countless numbers of cases before Castle had crash-landed in their lives.

It didn't feel the same.

The approaching footsteps catching her attention, Beckett slides her gaze upwards from the computer in front of her to greet Montgomery with a nod. She feels the tightness in her smile, unable to hide the rising tension that was deciding to settle in her shoulders. It's time, she supposes, to talk to him. The idea has been bouncing around in her head all week and it's time to just... accept it.

"Beckett." Captain Montgomery returns her nod. "You did a great job on the Whitman case. The mayor in particular sends his thanks."

She offers a wan smile in return. "Just doing my job, sir."

"Still. What your team did has definitely gotten some attention. If you need anything, now's the time to ask. I don't think you're going to be higher in the city's esteem than you are right now."

It was the opening she's been hoping for, and before she can stop herself she nods. "Actually, I wouldn't mind taking a little vacation. I understand we're always busy this time of year and that it's short notice, but we're between cases and I've got a number of days accrued—"

Montgomery holds up a hand. "Not a problem." He pauses for a moment, meeting her gaze. "You deserve it," he says slowly and it seems like he's trying to convince her of… something. "I'm sure Ryan and Esposito can hold down the fort for a week or two. When were you hoping to leave?"

"I was going to finish up the last details of the case, and I was thinking about beginning my vacation on the 20th. If that's fine with you, sir."

She watches as Montgomery's eyes stray to the familiar calendar on the precinct wall. Even from this distance, the tiny 'x' on the 21st in Ryan's handwriting is apparent. She fights down any trace of emotion that threatens to creep into her cheeks. Beckett hates being so transparent - _hates_ it – and fights to maintain her poker face. They'd all seen enough on the day he left, she'd felt their eyes on her as she watched Castle and his arm candy walk away. She doesn't need to give any more indication of any emotion tied to Richard Castle.

She keeps her gaze even as Montgomery starts to nod, giving her a look of Understanding that makes her want to growl in frustration. She's a cop, dammit, not some lovestruck damsel. So what if her holiday happened to coincide with Castle's rumored return? So what?

"Sounds fine, Beckett. We'll miss you. But I think you could use a little rest. I expect you back with your batteries fully recharged and ready to go."

"Absolutely, sir. Hopefully, all government officials will resist the urge to kill their coworker's wives while I'm gone," she states, turning and leaving Montgomery watching her.

She figures the news would be around soon enough, and all it takes is a brief moment of checking her voicemail, fingertips drumming on her desk, before she feels a very familiar stare focused on her. A pair of stares.

"Vacation, Beckett? You?" Ryan's eyebrows raise in mock surprise as he approaches, cup of coffee in hand. Beckett had purposefully been avoiding the break room all summer, ignoring its espresso temptations.

"Can anything stay quiet for more than five minutes around here?" Beckett rolls her eyes, before the sight of Captain Montgomery emerging from the break room catches the corner of her peripheral vision. Yep, five minutes would be generous. "Yes," she sighs. "I'm going on a vacation. You know , that thing people occasionally do?"

"It's just… unexpected. Have you _ever_ taken more than 72 hours off, Beckett? In a row, I mean." Esposito takes a seat across from her, striking a pose she recognizes from the interrogation room.

"I appreciate the concern, guys. But we just busted a major case, we've had a great summer. I think I deserve a week and a half to myself. That's all."

"I don't disagree with that," Ryan says. "I don't think Esposito does either. We're big believers that you deserve a break now and then. It's just that _you've_ never thought you should, so forgive us for our… surprise."

"Complete fucking shock," Esposito adds.

"Utter batshit blindsiding."

"Like being hit by a truck driven by a man in a gorilla costume."

Beckett shakes her head. "Done yet?"

Esposito shoots a glance at Ryan, who offers a slight shrug and a shake of the head. He gives Beckett a solemn nod. "Done. So. Where are you going for this vacation?"

She hesitates for a minute before giving a slight sigh. "My family owns a cabin up in Maine. I figured I'd spend a few days up there, get away from the city for a little bit. Can I really trust you two to take care of things while I'm gone?"

"You know us, Beckett." Ryan grins.

"That's the problem." She rolls her eyes, but her gaze strays down to the stack of still-looming paperwork. "You guys get to finish up all the details then."

"But—" Ryan starts.

"Have fun," Beckett says firmly, grinning at the exasperation in the pair's eyes as she gets out of her chair and saunters down the hallway. It'll be good, she tells herself. A few days away to recharge and she'll come back good as new. It doesn't matter if Castle's back or not, she doesn't need him. Or want him. Or even have any interest whatsoever on whether or not he's actually coming back to the precinct.

None at all.

* * *

She hadn't been to the cabin since she was a child, carried on her father's shoulders as they headed up the overgrown driveway. It belongs to his sister, back when they'd been close and before everything had spiraled down to hell.

When she called her father and told him she was thinking about taking a vacation and getting out of the city for a little while, there was a sudden silence on the phone followed by a heavy sigh.

"I don't know what you're up to, Katie, but if it's enough to make _you_ want to get out then I think you'd better go all the way. How about I call up Cindy, see if that pile of lumber up in Maine is free?"

"No, Dad. It's fine, I was going to go to a hotel in Vermont or something—"

"A hotel isn't a getaway, it'll drive you nuts." His voice softens slightly, using that slightly entreating note that Kate _knows_ will make her give in. "Come on, Katie. Let me do this for you. Remember how much you loved Maine as a kid?"

"Yeah, dad. I remember." She closed her eyes for a moment, the images of crisp autumn leaves trailing down from the treetops floating in front of her. A few scant summers before her father and aunt descended into uneasiness between them, a few teenage years of jumping in the lake as the sun rose before scampering back to the cabin shivering, a few years before her mother—

She'd only been to the cabin twice after that. Exhaling, she gave a slight groan. "Fine, dad. I'll go."

"Good. You enjoy yourself, you deserve the downtime. Okay?"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too, Katie."

* * *

The nine-hour drive is relatively peaceful, the rental car swelling with the sounds of Bon Jovi blasting through the dying speakers. It's nice to have this for once, she thinks as she belts out the lyrics to 'You Give Love a Bad Name'. Just to spend a little time with herself, behind the wheel of something that didn't have sirens attached.

She stops at small roadside dinners, places with faded signs and delicious coffee, where truckers glance over their sandwiches at her and she feels… less like a cop, more like a human being. Maybe her dad was right, maybe a vacation will be good for her.

The one downside to the drive is having plenty of time to think. It's somewhere past the Maine border, after four hours of staring at the road that she finally isn't able to keep him out of her mind.

There had been one brief, beautiful moment where she really thought it would all work out. That she'd said goodbye to Tom Demming and left behind an incredible, passionate moment in her life in favor of a fire that could burn brighter, greater, something that could make her toes curl just thinking about it.

Then, of course, Castle had to go and screw it all up. It wasn't his fault, she knows, but it didn't help the way she felt her heart tear itself free from her chest when that… that _woman_ had walked in. He didn't know, he couldn't have known, but it didn't stop it from _hurting_.

She could have loved Tom, she thinks. Enough time with him and the feeling of wanting Castle, of the warmth of his hands and the way the smile would light up after seeing a fresh body… It would fade away, and would be replaced with the way Tom's hands resting on her hips could flood her entire body with warmth.

She could have forgotten. A summer of her and Tom, with Castle gone to the Hamptons, and maybe they'd have a chance. Time away from the writer and a little bit of determination could have made it happen.

And maybe pigs would fly. All she has to do is close her eyes and Castle's face is there, laugh lines around his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

It's better for it to end now, she reasons. For all that she likes Tom – really, truly, genuinely _likes_ him and cares about him – she knows there'd be regret eventually. They'd break up and it'd be too late to preserve what they have left of their dignity.

Or maybe she'd end up with a ring on her finger and a nice condo filled with family pictures and a small son or daughter playing in the living room, bearing her eyes and his wide smile.

Dammit.

"I'm fine," she says aloud, determined to make it true. "I'm going to enjoy my vacation, dammit."

She's always been independent, there's no way in hell she's going to let Castle's decisions destroy her first vacation in… well, forever.

The sun is setting when she reaches the end up the familiar winding road, the final rays of the day skimming over the yellowing leaves and making a world of gold and orange surrounding the old cabin. She decides that the second she gets out of the car, the next ten days will be about her. No more thinking about men, she tells herself. What's done is done, and this is where she's going to move on. It's going to be a 'No-Castle-or-Demming' zone, and she's going to be okay with that.

It's been awhile since anyone's been there. The leaves have piled high, the roof looks more decrepit than it ever did when she was a kid, and it's definitely… old.

Like she feels. With a grin, she parks the car and gets out, stretching upwards as she strolls towards the door. "This'll be good," she says, putting the key in the lock and listening to the familiar creak in the lock.

It'll be what she needs.

* * *

**ii.**

Nothing had changed. That's the most gratifying thing for Castle – he'd stood outside the precinct for a moment, feeling like he'd been away for a century instead of three months. But here he is, back in the same old office, except this time his manuscript is done and going through final editing.

Well, the same other than the noticeably giant floral arrangement sitting on Beckett's desk, the sort he's used to seeing the mayor's office send out. Grinning, he strolls over and flips open the card attached.

'My greatest thanks, on behalf of both myself and my staff. Hell of a job, detectives. '

The very large and very expensive-looking bottle of scotch sitting next to it was definitely also something that looks like the mayor's handiwork.

He'd heard about a case with the mayor's aide, seen half-headlines on the kitchen table before Gina would snatch the papers away and point towards his laptop. 'Work,' she'd tell him. 'You can read the paper when you've given _me_ something worth reading.'

"Castle!" A familiar voice makes him spin around. Esposito's grinning at him, striding across the office with a cup of coffee in hand. "Good to see you back, man."

"It looks like you guys have kept busy while I'm gone." Castle looks down at the flowers again. "You were on that one?"

"You bet. Man, you shoulda seen Ryan. He dropped the perp, jumped from a freakin' _fire escape_ to land on the guy." He paused. "Just don't tell him I said that, he's got a big enough ego as it is about it."

"I missed that?" Already his brain was working, the words flying for how Roach could do it in the next one. There was always a next one. It was weird, knowing that there was a moment like that and he just… hadn't been there. "Can I see the files on it?"

"Sure. It's good to have you back, man."

"Let me tell you, I got a _lot_ of writing done, but it'll be good to put the pen down for a little bit, I think I got carpal tunnel." Castle grins. It's then that it strikes him, there's no familiar exasperation, no gentle mocking 'Finally decided to show your face around here again?'. He glances quickly around the room, spots Ryan flipping through a paper, but no familiar brunette. "Where's Beckett?"

"She's…" Esposito hesitates. "She's on vacation."

Vacation. Of course. Castle snorts, managing to avoid rolling his eyes. "On a trip with Demming, is she?"

And suddenly the warmth in Esposito's eyes seeps away. Frowning, he shakes his head. "We haven't seen Tom around in awhile, actually. Word from the boys downstairs is that he showed up down there looking pretty upset awhile back – funnily enough, it was around the hour _you_ took off on your trip to the Hamptons." He pauses. "We haven't seen him up here since."

Castle suddenly understands what other writers' meant when they used the trite phrase – 'like a punch to the chest'. There's a distinct ache in his chest as he freezes, the words slowly filtering around in his mind. "She broke up with Demming."

"Looks like."

"Before I left."

"Seems so." Esposito's gaze darkens. "She say anything to you before you left, Castle?"

It may have been three months before, but the image of Beckett standing striding into the office, flirting - _flirting_ - with him in return instead of just rolling her eyes, the words that start and suddenly stop as Gina comes in.

"Shit."

"Yeah, man. Exactly."

"What do you know?" And now Castle's the one with the urgent gaze, stepping forward to suddenly be very, very much in Esposito's personal space.

Esposito's never been one to back down, however, and meets his stare with an unimpressed raise of the eyebrow. "Just that she was in a damn good mood for someone who just was in a breakup, only to come back in from the conversation with _you_ looking like someone had just blown up her apartment. Again. And she's been hell on wheels all this summer, I'm pretty sure she would have solved _every_ unexplained murder in New York if Ryan and I didn't make sure she was stopping for lunch sometimes."

"So she—"

"She's on vacation, man. And I'm hoping she comes back in a better mood."

He thinks of all the times he reached for the phone in the Hamptons, wanting to call her, needing to call her, before Gina would pluck the cell from his hand and toss it away. Before he and Gina started sniping at each other, then the sniping turned to shouting, and the shouting turned into silence. The silence was always the end of things, he knew.

He'd sent one text to her, two weeks earlier: 'Back on the 21st. I'll bring bagels.' He didn't get a response and he'd hoped that was a good sign, there was no 'Sorry Castle, we're done with you.' No reply of 'don't bother'. He'd taken no word as a silent affirmative and was expecting the gourmet bagels to be the peace offering to get back in the trio's good graces after a summer away.

Beckett's absence, however… That was something he never, ever would have expected.

After the first time, Gina had learned not to snatch his phone from his hand when he'd been talking to Alexis – and it was on his second conversation with his daughter that she'd heard Gina's voice in the background, calling him back to work.

"Dad, what are you _doing_?"

"I'm working on my book," he'd told her. "I'm being responsible. Isn't that what you want for your dear ol' dad?"

"That's not what I mean, Dad, and you know it." There was a moment of hesitation. "Does she really make you happy?"

The 'yes' got stuck in his throat. "Gotta go, kiddo."

He spent the last two weeks of his vacation alone, staring at the walls and feeling his skin itch to get out and move and do _something_ as he forced out the last two chapters. It was done, he was done, and Gina was gone back to her office.

And now… knowing he'd been this close, _this close_, to having that beautiful smile focused on him in the Hamptons… it was too much. He closed his eyes, willing down all the emotional responses that really, really wanted to get out. Most of them prefaced by 'Fuck!'.

Slowly, deliberately, he opens his eyes and stares at Esposito. "Where did she go?" He asks quietly. "Where's Kate?"

Esposito shakes his head. "You may be like my other partner, but Beckett… she's pretty much _family_ to me, man."

"Come on—"

"No," Esposito says firmly. "I'm not going to betray her like that again, I've already gone out on a limb for you. Beckett doesn't back down from anything. If she wants a vacation and some privacy, that's what she's going to get."

He can feel the faint tug of desperation welling up. His chance, his _chance_ and he'd missed it, he'd messed it up because of Gina's arm wrapped around his waist. "What do you want? I can make it happen. New car? Trip to a tropical island?"

Now Esposito _is_ pissed. His eyes narrow into a glare and his frown tightens. "You seriously trying to buy me off, man?"

"I just… I have to see her." He can't hide the note of pain in his voice, he doesn't want to if he thinks it'll get anything out of Esposito.

"No can do. You'll see her when she gets back. Sorry," he says and turns away, obviously done with the conversation.

"Fuck," Castle murmurs to himself, unsure of what to do. Captain Montgomery must have the information on file, there's no way he'd let one of his top detectives go without knowing _where_. Or he could call in a favor with the mayor, there must be a way-

"Castle." A voice breaks him out of his machinations. Ryan is staring at him, the briefest ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. "You really going after her?"

"Damn well going to try." He pauses. He can rely on Ryan's softer side, he _has_ to. "You know where she is, don't you?"

Ryan casts a casual look over his shoulder – Esposito's absorbed in the stack of reports on Beckett's desk. "She left us the address and house number in case we need to contact her, since cell phone reception is pretty unreliable up there."

"Up where?"

"Maine. Cabin belongs to her family. I shouldn't be giving this to you, okay? If you mess this up—"

"I won't. Just give me the address."

* * *

**iii.****  
**  
It's lonely, but she's beginning to like it. The sun is just breaking through the trees, the warm rays beginning to warm the cabin. Stretching, Beckett makes her way down the overgrown path outside the cabin that leads over to the firewood pile. Chopping wood isn't exactly what she expected to be doing on her vacation, but it feels good to stretch her muscles out. Feels like working, which soothes the itch in the back of her mind that doesn't want her to relax.

The faint sound of a car engine echoes through the trees – drawing nearer, it seems. She casts a glance towards the road – maybe the Martinez family is coming up for the summer? She has memories of playing with the kids in the next cabin, of running the half mile between the two residences to see the familiar dark-haired children. According to her father, the family still owns the next cabin. It would be nice to see them again, she decides, to remember the past. Happier times.

The car, however, is way too familiar. Particularly the driver. Dropping her hatchet to the ground, she pulls off her gloves and makes her way down the driveway as the car pulls to a stop. It can't be. If she closes her eyes, maybe it'll vanish back into whatever crazy hallucination it came from.

"Castle?"

The car pulls to a stop and the engine cuts out. The tall, familiar form of Richard Castle climbs out and for a moment he just leans against the door – watching her.

She's suddenly aware of how un-her she looks at the moment – at least, how un-Detective Beckett, NYPD Superwoman she probably looks. Just jeans, well-worn Chucks, and a flannel shirt. It's uncomfortable to be under Castle's gaze, the writer's stare that takes in every detail and couches it in prose.

"Beckett." He answers in turn. "Hey." His hands are in the pockets of his jacket, his hair is looking _much_ more tousled than its usual, impeccable look, and his eyes are barely glancing up from the ground. All in all, he looks a little like a child who felt guilty about having his hand in the cookie jar.

"What are you _doing_ here? How did you even know—"

"I was in the neighborhood?" He offers weakly, shrugging and leaning away from the car door, letting it fall shut. He takes a step forward. "I was. I mean. I just."

"Castle," she says, surprised by how harsh her voice is. He's _here_. Why the hell is he here? Miles from anything, when he should just be getting back from the Hamptons with— She glares at him. "Tell me what you're doing here when I'm on _my_ vacation. Now."

She doesn't want to know how goddamn amazing his time was writing with his ex. She doesn't want to hear about his wonderfully creative summer without her, she doesn't even want to hear about him coming back. She wants to be alone. Folding her arms over her chest, she tries to put all the 'godfuckingdammit Castle' she can into her stare.

It seems to be working, at least. The writer is still speechless, staring at her with a gaze she can't identify. His eyes are wide and dark and he seems to be searching for… something.

It's enough to thaw her heart a tiny bit. Just a smidge.

"If you're just here to say 'hi' and tell me you're back—" she says.

"No!" He cuts her off and suddenly he's moving towards her, she finds herself staring up at him into those brilliant, expressive eyes. He's so close, she can smell the soap and aftershave on him, the familiar musk that is pure Castle as he leans in—

He's leaning in, she realizes.

She feels frozen as his hands land on her waist, gently tugging her in and his lips are suddenly meeting hers. Beckett feels like a spectator as her body begins to respond, melting to press against his, her arms winding around his neck as her fingers thread through his hair.

Desperately, she's kissing him back, and she feels like she never ways to pull away.

His hands roam down to her waist, crushing her against him. She can feel the heat from his body, the musky scent of aftershave and soap and pure _Castle_ invading her senses.

She's dreaming, she thinks. These things don't happen. Though if anyone would find a way to make her life into a fiction, it'd be him.

For a second she pulls back, looking into his eyes and seeing a surprising… honesty? Vulnerability? There's need in his eyes, affection, and something… else. Something she doesn't want to think too hard about. He quirks his lips into a little smile as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against her hip.

"I just wanted to see you," he says, and it's an answer that says enough. She starts to pull him down to her again, but he shakes his head. "I didn't know," he states, placing emphasis on the final word. "I didn't _know_. Before I left, I didn't even realize—"

She pulls one of her hands away from where it's laced in his hair, touching his lip gently with a fingertip. "It's fine," she says. Because now that he's here, she remembers flashes of a tight and controlled smile for the weeks before he left. She remembers a brief glance at him to see puppy dog eyes meeting hers before he looked away. "I didn't either."

"I think we need to work on our communication skills," Castle murmurs, his thumb finding the gap between her flannel shirt and her jeans and sliding into run along her side. "It would certainly make things better… at the precinct…. Interdepartmentally…"

"Oh, shut up." She kisses him again and she stops thinking, stops letting him think, even as she knows he's capturing this all in his head and probably writing a damn Nikki Heat scene in his mind.

She can fix that. She doesn't give herself time to hesitate before she's grabbing his hand and pulling him back to the cabin.

A vacation was, apparently, exactly what she needed.

* * *

"What the hell is THAT?" Esposito's eyebrows raise in shock.

The festive basket is set in the middle of their desks, tucked neatly next to the mayor's flowers. It wasn't unusual for the occasional token of gratitude to appear after a case, so they knew a fruit basket when they saw it – the familiar wicker, ribbons, and foil-embossed card.

This time, however, it's slightly different. Ryan's eyes light up as he picks up the bottle of peach whiskey. "Fruit basket," he says, shrugging his shoulders as he sits down the whiskey bottle on the desk, immediately examining a small flask of twelve-year-old apple brandy.

"Or something like that. Who the hell—" The card catches Esposito's eye. Flipping open the envelope, he sees two separate, smaller cards inside. One is labeled 'Esposito' in flowing script, the other inked with 'Ryan'. "This is for you."

"Only one person who would—yep." Ryan grins. "'Thanks for the tip. Case successful. Castle. PS, can I get issued handcuffs?' Looks like he found her. And… I didn't need to know that last bit." He makes a face, visibly shuddering.

"Found _who_?" Feeling his jaw tighten, Esposito leans forward and pulls the brandy out of Ryan's grasp. "You gave him her—"

"Hey, I had to help him out. You heard him, he sounded desperate enough." Despite the very real threat in front of him, Ryan seems deliberately unaffected. His gaze slides back to the fruit basket, longingly. "They make mango rum?"

"I can't believe you'd just give him that address! You saw the look on her face."

"And Castle saw it too. Only took him three months to figure it out. Gotta wonder how he manages to be so helpful all the time with a thought process like that." Ryan is looking way too calm, edging around Esposito to continue his exploration of the basket. "I trusted him. Besides," and now he meets Esposito's gaze, the familiar grin widening. "He knew that if he screwed it up, the second he stepped foot back in New York, he'd have _both _of us to face."

"You're a cocky bastard, you know that?" Esposito already feels the anger melting away and he shakes his head. It worked out , that was what counted, and if Beckett was happy… well, then he could avoid maiming Castle. It was probably best not to have his unofficial partner's blood on his hands, anyway. Giving in, he turns away from glaring at Ryan and flips open his card to find a handwritten message scrawled in ballpoint pen. An 'I told you so', maybe? An apology? A 'thanks for nothing'?

_'Thanks for protecting her. Castle.'  
_


End file.
